


lucidly floating through life

by 14hrflight (25postcards)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Dom Louis, Established Relationship, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Shotgunning, Sub Harry, Top Louis, dental dam, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/25postcards/pseuds/14hrflight
Summary: “Find anything you’re craving?” Harry’s lips curl into a grin. Louis throws his head back and lets out a short cackle. He can’t even lift his head to watch how Louis’ eyes crinkle, body feeling heavy and endless.“Absolutely awful,” Louis says, shaking his head.“You’re supposed to say that you’re craving me,” Harry says, reaching over blindly for the plastic sleeve of thin mints he’d ripped open what feels like four hours ago.--Louis and Harry get high and Harry gets rimmed on a kitchen counter.





	lucidly floating through life

It’s been too hot in Los Angeles.

 

Sweat beads at Harry’s temple and he wipes it with the back of his hand. The back of his neck feels sticky and he’s glad that at least he doesn’t have to tuck his hair into a bun anymore. He loves LA. He loves the weather, the food, weirdly enough, he doesn’t mind the traffic, because it slows everything down and people who live in LA have endless patience. He loves all of it: their house, their dog, the friends they’ve made. They’ve really built something that feels stable and real, but this heat makes him miss Cheshire and all its green dreariness. He’s sentimental like that.

 

He’s flat on the bed, tapping away at his phone, and even though the air conditioning is set to 60, there’s no escaping the insufferable heat when they have their patio door open. Harry scrolls mindlessly for a while, trying not to turn and stare at Louis every few seconds, because they’d gotten good at just _existing_ next to each other at some point. But Harry’s been - he’s been needy. He can admit it. He gets like this when they’re stretched thin on their two week rule and it feels like ages since they’ve both just been home at the same time. Louis’ sitting on the balcony, just behind the glass door in trackies and no shirt, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He must have gotten a call when Harry went to shower and now he has his phone sat on his knee as he speaks quietly to his family. Lottie’s voice is muffled by the speaker and Louis cackles at something she must have said; it makes Harry glance over again. Louis looks up at him this time and smiles, and Harry’s belly goes tumbling when he winks. It’s so ridiculous that Louis can still make him feel this way, Harry thinks, biting back a smile.

 

Harry rolls into an arms-up stretch and decides he’s had enough. He digs through their drawer side for the tupperware that they keep all their weed paraphernalia in, since there’s no use keeping it in a decorative box. There’s a few butt ends of old joints and some unopened edibles, but Harry digs around until he can get to his trusty [ pink pipe ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fimg0.etsystatic.com%2F199%2F0%2F6775263%2Fil_570xN.1238127236_97mp.jpg&t=NmUyNGNjYjkyNzY5YjQwZmY1MGZiZTMzYTdlMjAyZDZiNjFmMDlkMixGRW5GcFFnaw%3D%3D&b=t%3A6pbzSXxKaIdf8of2Hb_unA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsilverfoxlouis.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166735608329%2Fim-a-stoner-who-thought-theyd-write-harry-and&m=0) (rightfully nicknamed Buttplug.) It’s not completely ashed out, so he doesn’t bother repacking it and also grabs a few joints, one he rolled, and another one of Louis’. Wrinkling his nose at the heat as he squeezes through the crack of the door, Harry settles in Louis' lap, smiling when Louis moves his phone to make room without being asked. _"Hi,"_ Louis mouths, swiping his fingers through Harry's hair once. Harry wobbles the joint between his fingers and Louis grins at him, nodding.

 

“What was that, Lots?” Louis asks his sister, kissing Harry’s shoulder. Harry sets Buttplug down carefully, and rests his head on Louis' collarbone, not wanting to start until he's done. “I’ve gotta go, Lottie. Love you,” he says, hanging up without further explanation. Lottie’s used to it by now.

 

Louis stabs his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray and picks up Harry’s pipe. “Really does look like a buttplug.”

 

“You say that every time we smoke from it. I brought joints too,” Harry says, pretending to roll his eyes.

 

“One of them, then. Did you roll this one?” Louis says, picking up the neater of the two. He squeezes it between his fingers, crinkling the thin paper.

 

“Yes,” Harry says, plucking it out of his hand.   
  


“Mine’s packed better, but I love you, so we’ll go with your shite roll.”

 

“Hey!” Harry exclaims, affronted. Louis grins.

 

One and a half joints later and Harry’s practically a puddle in Louis’ lap, unable to stop running his fingers through the hair on Louis’ chest. He’s straddling Louis now and Louis noses against his cheek, his hands searing where they rest on Harry’s hips.

 

“Darling,” he says quietly. Harry smiles and grinds against him. He’s so fucking horny when he’s high. “I missed you.”

 

Harry’s missed him too, even though they’ve been together all day. It’s not enough. In hazy fragments, Harry thinks they used to be atom-to-atom, but now everything’s spinning too fast in both their worlds. He’s at half-chub, but he’s too stoned to do much more than rock lazily. His limbs feel like liquid and smoke all at once and Harry dips forward when the cherry of the joint burns down. Louis sucks, cheeks hollowing, then meets him halfway, exhaling the thick smoke. Harry inhales and holds it just so Louis can fuck his tongue into his mouth.

 

They part just so the smoke can escape Harry’s burning lungs, and he moans. “God,” Harry whines, looping his arms even tighter around Louis’ neck.

 

“Want to switch to Buttplug?” Louis says, tossing the spent joint.

 

“Want you to put a real buttplug up my ass,” Harry says, drawling stupidly, even slower than usual.  
  


“That wasn’t very clever, love,” Louis says, laughing.

 

“It seemed like the right moment.”

 

“It wasn’t,” Louis insists teasingly, but kisses him again anyway. Harry crushes their lips together, liking how it tingles and tingles down to his fingertips. He likes feeling pleasantly numb to the world yet over-focused on everywhere Louis is touching him. Louis’ fingers dip down past the waistband of his boxers, smoothing his fingers down the curve of Harry’s bum.

 

“Touch me,” he demands between desperate kisses. When he gets like this, already needy and high, he’s a bottomless pit for touch. He craves their closeness, kissing Louis like he’s trying to meld into him. Any place on his body that Louis isn’t touching is a waste of space. When Louis touches him, he’s full, and when he stops, he’s empty again.

 

“I am,” Louis says.

 

“I missed you. I miss you,” Harry says brokenly, nuzzling into Louis’ neck.

 

Louis is kissing him and kissing him, licking into the cotton-candy dryness of his mouth from the weed. He thinks about how he must taste terrible right now, but Louis loves him enough to keep kissing him - can’t _stop_ kissing him long enough to respond, “I know.”

 

Harry’s lips feel sore and he’s fully hard now, hole aching for it.

 

“ _More_. Deeper, Louis,” he huffs impatiently, but feels like he’s moving slow through molasses. Louis looks entranced by him when they pull away to breathe, mouth red, and Harry thumbs over his bottom lip. Biting his finger with a grin, Louis slides his hand down, spreading Harry apart. Harry moans, bucking into the touch.

 

“Haven’t got any lube out here, darling. Darling. Darling,” Louis says, scraping his teeth and his beard against Harry’s jawline, nipping along for every word. Harry grows brighter. Louis’ finger keeps circling maddeningly at his hole.

 

“I don’t care. I’d really let you shove that pipe up my ass at this point. I just want to feel it.”

 

“Feel the pipe?” Louis is a smartass, even when he’s high.

 

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles before breaking into a big laugh that tears through his intense horniness. 

 

Louis pulls his hands away, smearing his smile across Harry’s cheek when Harry whines and blinks dazedly.

  
“Let’s go downstairs, love. Still have to feed Clifford and m’starving, honestly,” Louis says. Harry sighs, because Harry’s a horny high and Louis just gets _hungry_. Actually, physically hungry. Louis pats Harry’s thighs a few times until he uncurls himself from Louis’ lap, unsteady. “My mouth is wickedly dry,” Louis groans, reaching out to tangle their fingers together.

 

Once they’re downstairs, Harry hops up onto the counter of the kitchen island and watches Louis raid through their pantry. He pulls out a jar of olives that make Harry wrinkle his nose; a jar of marmite; bread; peanut butter; three types of cereal; salt and vinegar crisps; Cheeto puffs; cool ranch Doritos; _many_ different types of Girl Scouts cookies; and candy they likely haven’t touched in two years. Harry takes the bag of crisps and pops one into his mouth, chewing while the whole world slows down. It feels like he’s been chewing for a century before Louis turns around.   
  
  
“You’re going to eat us out of house and home,” Harry deadpans.   
  
  
Louis pops open the olives first and dips his hand into the whole jar. Harry pretends to gag when Louis grabs five of them out at once, his hand dripping with olive juice. “Tragic.”  
  
  
  
“You better not kiss me when until you rinse your mouth,” he says, grinning. They’ve spent seven years together, but Harry _still_ hates olives.   
  
  
  
“That’s not a problem. I don’t want to kiss you right now anyway.” Louis sticks his tongue out childishly, popping three more olives into his mouth like they’re candy. Clifford comes over to investigate and Louis fills up his bowl, his hand drifting over his soft fur. They eat in silence, though Harry does coax Louis forward with a stare until he can wrap his legs around him and hold him there. He’s still craving that closeness. Louis pops a mini Snickers bar into his mouth with a delighted hum once he rips it open and finds it's not discolored. Harry rolls his eyes; they're at the beginning of Louis' endless cycle of salty-and-sweet.

 

When he lays back, the cold of the marble countertop seeps through his threadbare, ripped-to-hell t-shirt, his thighs where they're peeking out through his boxers. Louis' hands settle there, leaving Harry tingling. He hums. Louis rucks his shirt up, ghosting his lips across Harry's belly, nosing into Harry's happy trail. Harry giggles, ticklish as always. He winds his fingers through Louis' hair to tug him closer.  
  
  
“Find anything you’re craving?” Harry’s lips curl into a grin. Louis throws his head back and lets out a short cackle. He can’t even lift his head to watch how Louis’ eyes crinkle, body feeling heavy and endless.   
  
  
“Absolutely awful,” Louis says, shaking his head.   
  
  
  
“You’re supposed to say that you’re craving _me_ ,” Harry says, reaching over blindly for the plastic sleeve of thin mints he’d ripped open what feels like four hours ago. Harry takes a bite and Louis presses a kiss to the curve of his hip. He pulls away and Harry can hear him swigging his cup of water, swishing it around.   
  
  
  
“Mm, I’m craving you,” Louis grins before biting his hip. Harry gasps and his hips lift ever so slightly. Louis takes advantage of it and tugs off his boxers.

 

Louis pulls away for a moment and Harry’s head is so foggy with weed and want that he has to close his eyes. He falls into the marble, which feels like it’s swaying underneath him like a water bed. He sighs again when Louis gently lifts his legs up. He can feel Louis’ chocolate-covered fingers smearing over his thigh.

 

“Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis,” Harry mumbles, his body moving with the world turning on its axis. Louis grips his thighs. There isn’t anything but Louis and him and Louis’ hands on him. _Be with me._

 

Louis peppers kisses against his thigh. _I’m here._ More kisses, his wet mouth and wet tongue and his beard scratching in juxtaposition to the softness tingling his skin. He’s so fucking _focused,_ like Harry’s the only thing in the world, and when it’s like this, he always goes quiet. Louis’ love is so loud.

 

Harry’s fingers dip into his hair, petting through it until it’s fluffy.

 

The clingfilm goes on - Harry isn’t even sure when Louis had gotten some out of the drawer - and Harry whines. He knows that it’s probably for the best, but he can’t help wanting to feel Louis closer, and he feels cheated for a moment when Louis licks his hole and he doesn’t get the wetness with it. It still feels good, of course it does, but he likes being wet and dripping, so filthy with Louis’ spit that he can slide a finger in with no problem. Louis’s tongue swipes and swipes and probes in and it’s not _enough_. Harry’s brow furrows and Louis lifts off of him, eyeing him through his fucked-out fringe.   
  
  
  
“Not good enough for you, Haz?” he asks, his voice dripping with molasses. Harry can’t even lift his own head to see Louis’ smirk, feeling like lead.   
  
  
  
“No - s’not that.”

 

“You’re frowning, love.”   
  
  
  
“M’sorry, Daddy. I just want to feel _you_ ,” he mumbles frustratedly. Louis smiles and presses his thumb at his hole.   
  
  
  
“Well, you are, aren’t you? Aren’t you feeling me right now?” he says, pressing deeper into Harry with the tip of his thumb until Harry clenches again, fingers tightening in Louis’ hair.   
  
  
  
“Yes,” Harry answers, breathily.   
  
  
  
“Be good, then,” Louis chastises one more time before he peels Harry’s thighs apart. He drags his teeth gently over his hole, over and over again, then circles his rim and kisses and sucks. The clingfilm is terrible; it’s the feeling of Louis tongue and no trace of him afterward and that’s the worst part of it. They’ve done it plenty of times with clingfilm, but the weed is making everything so much sharper where Louis touches him. He can _feel_ the barrier between them - and he can’t feel Louis. Harry wants to cry.

 

He tries not to make unhappy noises, because this is what Daddy’s going to give him right now and he shouldn’t be greedy.

 

But he is. Down to his bones, he _is_.   


Louis’ fingers dig into his thighs and Harry lifts his legs up and around Louis’ shoulders clumsily, every motion deliberate, because he has to _remind himself_ of how to use his legs. Louis flattens his tongue and rubs up, using his whole face. His beard’s rubbing Harry’s sensitive thighs raw. Sweat beads at Harry’s temple, the marble underneath him heating. Louis moans, furling his tongue over and over, twisting his it in and out. His cock’s been forgotten all together, but it’s hard, laying against his belly. His fingers flex, because he can’t stop thinking about touching himself now, but Daddy hasn’t told him he can yet. Come beads at the tip, dripping onto his belly. His breath is loud in his own ears the longer Louis goes; his tongue is tirelessly working into him. His spit feels heavy on the clingfilm and Harry whines until Louis’s panting hard against his thigh. His lips are soft on his thighs.   
  
  
“ _Louis._ ”   
  
  
  
“Mmm,” Louis murmurs roughly, rubbing two fingers along his cleft. Harry's jealous he can feel his own spit pooled on the clingfilm. "Going to come soon?" As if he doesn’t already _know_ from the way Harry’s cock is twitching restlessly.

 

“Go ahead,” Louis whispers, kissing tenderly along the side of Harry’s knee.  
  
  
  
“Don’t want to,” Harry moans, miserable and low. Louis snorts.   
  
  
  
He wants to last longer, but it’s bubbling up in the pit of his groin, against his will. He’s so loose-limbed and if he weren’t so high, he’d be able to hold it off. Harry’s hips buck, his cock bobbing heavily, and then he rolls his hips again, humping at the air. Louis digs back in, pointing his tongue so Harry can fuck down against it, like he’s taking his orgasm the way he wants it.

 

“ _Daddy_ ,” Harry moans out, his head lolling to the side, brows pinching together. It hits him all in a rush and his hips jerk erratically as he cries out. The wave of pleasure rolls in and out of him, until he’s floating out of his skin, his soul expanding to meet Louis’. Harry starts to cry, helplessly overwhelmed by how much he loves Louis and how he is _beloved_.  
  
  
  
Louis peels the clingfilm away without him noticing and _finally_ rewards him with his _wet, hot_ tongue. Harry sobs, nails digging into his shoulders. Louis hums, pleased. His tongue is so slick and he even pulls away to spit at Harry’s used, pink hole, then sinks in deeper until Harry’s gasping. Pulling back, Louis groans, his panting breaths making Harry shiver. Louis watches him for a moment; Harry’s useless, still sobbing silently, tears rolling down the sides of his face. Louis kisses slowly up his thighs, bites his hip again, licks at where he’s left teeth marks. He unwinds Harry’s legs, kissing his knees before he sets them back down on the table. When he dips down to lick up all of Harry’s come off his belly, he moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

  
“Love you, my good boy.”   
  
  
  
Harry’s mouth drops open - he wants to respond, but it’s too much effort to.   
  
  
  
“Love you. Love that you’re mine.”  
  
  
  
Yours.  
  
  
_  
_ Yours.

 

_Always._

 

Harry still feels like all of his strings have been cut, but he tries lifting his hand slowly anyway, knowing that Louis needs to be close to him too. After a few more deep breaths, Harry pushes himself up and Louis catches him, pressing his smile into his shoulder. Harry loops his arms around Louis’ neck and drags him forward so he can sag into him. The palm of Louis’ hand presses into his neck and his fingers scratch up and down Harry’s sides, soothing circles into his skin.  
  
“I love you,” Harry finally manages to say when he remembers how. He breathes in Louis’ skin, closing his eyes until their heartbeats align.

  
  
  


  
  


  
  


  


  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you to H for beta-ing this for me. you're THE BEST.


End file.
